


The Truth In the Ink Blots

by Hypewriter



Category: Teen Titans (Animated Series), Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Conspiracy, Family Friendly, Flashbacks, Gen, Nihilism, Pandora's Box, Robin just has a really bad time, We need to talk about Robin, heavy shit, not liking said answers, quest for answers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2018-01-25
Packaged: 2018-10-25 17:16:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10768827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hypewriter/pseuds/Hypewriter
Summary: After what's supposed to be a routine bust, Robin stumbles across some information about a horrible global event from decades ago. A tragedy that couldn't be prevented by what few heroes there were. The day that America's favorite overpowered being turned against the world and ended tens of millions of lives at once before disappearing. Now, Robin has a clue as to why it happened, and the truth could tear apart his entire understanding of the past, human nature, and what it means to make the hard decision.





	1. Crackheads and Conspiracies

**Author's Note:**

> This is something I've wanted to do for a long time. I'm a huge fan of Watchmen and Titans TAS, and I've always enjoyed writing. Blah blah blah, like, comment, and subscribe. Or... kudos, comment, and follow? I have plenty more coming here, it's gonna be a hefty story. Thanks for reading and enjoy!

_This all goes back to that night in the southern projects_ , Dick Grayson recalled bitterly as he prepared another large mug of honey ginger tea, dropping in three bags for extra strength. As conscientious as he was about keeping himself in the best physical shape possible, he'd sworn off alcohol, even though he was several years away from the legal age. Still, there's some situations that just can't be handled with root beer and virgin daiquiris alone. This situation in particular could only be described as "morbid epiphany," a road into Pandora's box that he'd already been down more than enough times before. But those were all minor conspiracies, from brainwashing plots of Mad Mod to the Brushogun incident in Tokyo. _And those were all fixable_ , he thought. _Eccentric villains going over the top to make a mess, only for us to kick them in the hubris. Never anything like this..._

He took a careless swig of the tea, barely noticing that the hot water had just scalded the roof of his mouth and deadened the top of his tongue. He wasn't very savvy when it came to which tea for what ailment, but Raven had often said honey was best for calming oneself down, while he liked the ginger's kick of clean spice. He wished it could cleanse his memory as well as his palette. Sitting down on the couch in the Tower's main living room, he sighed heavily and stared at the journal on the table. Bound in imitation leather, it was old, cheap, and as battle-worn as any soldier he'd ever met. Within its wrinkled pages lay the cramped and eccentric writings of a madman, a man that the whole of humanity seemed to have forcefully forgotten. A man known for being temperamental, homicidal, and without any trace of remorse. By all accounts, what he had to say about anything didn't need to be taken with much more than a grain of salt. Yet these writings had taken Robin's naive understanding of the world and crushed it under the weight of truth...

* * *

"Beast Boy, I need eyes on that truck, now!" Robin's voice was barely above a whisper, but the harsh, commanding tone was enough to send chills down his teammate's backs, even over comms. There was a second of silence, then a screech as Beast Boy answered in the form of a macaw.

"BRAAAW! Two hundred meters out! Two hundred meters out! Coming in fast, brobird!"

"Will you cut that OUT?" Raven was next to chime in, letting out a growl that made Robin's commander voice sound like a baby's laugh. "For one thing, it'll be nothing but trouble for us should they just happen to look up and see a large green bird that shouldn't even exist on this side of the world. Secondly, you squawk one more time and I will actually STRANGLE YOU!"

"Raven! Stand down!" Robin cut back in, regaining control of the situation, then reconsidered. "...But she kinda has a point, BB. Circle back to us and find a roof. And STAY human until the signal's given!"

It was seven months earlier, and the Titans had received word from Jump City police that a truck of stolen S.T.A.R. Labs technology had fallen into the hands of a couple of junkies looking for an easy cook lab setup. As expected, Cyborg had taken the theft as a personal attack, and within minutes the team had taken position within the government housing community where the two suspects, Arnie Walsh and Trey "Foils" Norton, allegedly lived. It was now 11:38 pm, and their three-hour stakeout was finally about to pay off.

Everything went about as they expected. The two perps tried to run when they saw Starfire's glowing eyes in the alley, Robin's bola took Arnie's legs out from under him, and Raven easily scared Trey into surrender. It wasn't until after, when Starfire and Raven had departed to alert authorities and the boys were searching the two for weapons and other contraband that Robin's journey was set in motion.

"Is there a reason you hung me and Cy out to dry?" Beast boy was complaining about having nothing to do in the bust.

"You were backup," Robin replied matter-of-factly. "We didn't know what was on that truck, or how dangerous these guys might be. Honestly, you should be happy things went as well as they did!"

"Yeah? Well... next time, I call dibs on being the intimidator!"

Robin shrugged with indifferent approval and turned back to Cyborg, who was in the process of emptying the duo's pockets into a pile by the truck while they stood with their hands on their heads. "Anything interesting?" he asked.

"So far, nothin' outta the ordinary," Cyborg smiled. "Couple knives, expired driver's licenses, and just a lot of lint and wrappers. But this one here," he gestured toward Trey, "is givin' me a lotta lip about this magazine he had in his jacket. Somethin' about it bein' 'special' to-

"It's not just 'special'!" Trey spat out his interruption. "That's the last piece of true journalism! The key to understanding why the world went to utter shit!"

Robin looked at the magazine in question, slightly intrigued. It was an issue of "The New Frontiersman," an old one at that. It was dated for January 1986, and it seemed miraculous that it was even intact. "This old nose rag is your precious?" Beast boy laughed before hissing like Gollum.

"Laugh all you want, prick," Trey continued. "That little sucker exposes you all as the puppets you really are! Sure, you save cats from trees and host picnics for charity, but what happens when you're not polishing your ego? You're covering up conspiracies and lying for all those sons of bitches in charge of this twisted little sheep mill of a world!"

Robin, Cyborg, and Beast Boy stared at him in baffled silence. Arnie turned to his partner and whispered "Dude, now ain't the time to unload your crap about the illuminopoly or whatever..." but it was no use. Having lost all inhibition, Trey seemingly wanted to spill all he knew before the cops arrived to take him away.

"You know the Manhattan attacks of '85?" He asked with a sick grin. The three adolescent heroes collectively shivered slightly. Of course they knew. It was the day that the supervillain known as Doctor Manhattan had attacked several major cities worldwide, killed millions of people, and just disappeared.

"What kind of question is that?" Robin narrowed his eyes and spoke in the low, strained voice he used when his patience was running thin.

"Y'know, ol' Doc Manhattan was a so-called hero for a while!"

Robin struck him across the face before he could stop himself. Beast Boy and Cyborg exclaimed in shock and grabbed him back before he could swing again. "I knew you conspiracy theorists were nuts," he chuckled dryly, doing his best to restrain himself. "Next you'll be telling me Joker used to be a church youth leader!"

Trey laughed and spit blood from his split lip. "It's true, though! He was a government weapon walking around pretending to be human! Then some Men-In-Black-type people convinced him to declare war on Earth to stop us from finishing off the Russians! And all you super-tights-wearing freaks scrambled about covering it up and just saying the good doctor had gone batshit insane! Greater good and all that horseshit--"

"Enough!" Robin cut him off, realizing how much this exchange was exhausting him. "Ok look, you believe everything you read in pulp mags, fine. But how could they possibly know?"

"That's the kicker! Turn to page 9. That right there is a collection of pages out of a man's diary. HE knew what was up. HE wasn't a puppet to The Man like you kids. I mean look at you, you're so indoctrinated you don't even know you are!"

Trey carried on like this until the cops arrived. Starfire and Cyborg were handing over the evidence, and Robin was just about to give them the magazine when he stopped...

* * *

  _I should've just handed it over... or burned it in an alley nearby..._

* * *

The article's title is what made him hesitate. The man whose journal was now partially published in the "Frontiersman." It was thrilling, the thought of learning something about him not based around heresay. And Robin had heard of him. At the last second, he pocketed the little mag and began counting down the minutes until they could return to the tower, where he could sit and read in peace. Sit and read "From the Diary of Rorschach: What Really Happened on That Fateful Day."


	2. Welcome to My Twisted Mind, or Whatever Edgy Kids Put on Their Diaries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took me a bit, I know. But this is a long one, because I didn't want to tease the prospect of Robin reading the journal any longer than I had to. Soooooooo enjoy! And get ready for some light Robin/Starfire fluff because why not. 
> 
> (Also, for the sake of moving things forward, here Rorschach started in the early 70's instead of 60's)

It was now 2:40 am and Dick Grayson still sat on the couch, semiconsciously slurping away at the now-lukewarm tea. His maskless eyes were red and his t-shirt was itching, but there was no possibility of sleep. So he tried to mentally organize all the information he had. Of course he had heard of Rorschach before that night in the projects. It was a rarity that anyone calling themselves "hero" or "villain" didnt have an explicitly detailed file on the Batcomputer's archives. He had come across the file on Walter Kovacs during a regular study session. For two hours a day, Bruce would allow him access to the entirety of the archives, letting the young Robin read up on as many allies and enemies as he could to better teach him the detective's habit of always thinking ahead.

Dick tried to picture in his head the mugshot of Walter Kovacs from the file. What was it about this guy that made him stand out? He had no powers, no gadgets save for a grapple hook, and he barely even had a costume. _Of course, that could be what it was._ Dick shrugged at his own point. _No armor, no heat vision, no magical destiny rock; just a bare-bones guy-in-a-mask vigilante who'd somehow amassed a reputation as the name all criminals feared. It's almost like Bruce took inspiration from him._ He smiled in spite of himself, because he also knew Walter's modus operandi; he wasn't just some thrill-seeking thug puncher, he was a murderer. The few details of his past that were known suggested that years of abuse and other unknown traumas had forged a very skewed sense of reality within him; he fought not to protect the innocent, but to punish the guilty. For years, Dick had simply considered Walter homicidal, a sociopath who preyed upon criminals in hopes of the authorities turning the other cheek. 

That all changed when he found the journals, however. Even now, the last one, the published one, stared him in the face from the coffee table, the symbol on the cover shifting into a pair of eyes, watching his every move, as if waiting for a reaction. **_This is me_** , it seemed to mock him. **_No sugar coating, no apologizing, no glamorizing. What do you think?_** He responded to the inanimate object by abruptly pushing it off the table. The book had been far from easy to get. The "Frontiersman" article seemed promising, but most of it was just some radical right-winger's questionable summaries of Walter's words. The few pages that were printed were so horribly copied that they would barely be legible even without Walter's messy penmanship. Yet that little tabloid had sparked a curiosity in Robin that refused to fizzle out, instead growing into a burning obsession for answers.

* * *

It was this obsession that led him to take three days' leave to New York, where the magazine was published. Robin knew the little publication business had been closed up for years, but he had managed to track down the article's writer, Seymour, who was now living in a small retirement community outside of Manhattan. Old Seymour had stubbornly held onto the book like a servant guarding a Pharough's tomb for decades, but upon seeing Robin in costume, practically gave it to him before the young crusader had finished asking him.

"Take them," the former writer begged with the intensity of a dormant volcano suddenly becoming active once more. "They'll listen to you!"

"Them?" Robin was perplexed. "Wasn't there just the one journal that was published?"

"You kiddin'? The guy was a walking library! Night before the big attack, he comes by the office and just drops off a envelope with like five journals in there, and not one of them had a blank page!" He suddenly stopped and looked out the door of his room before pulling Robin close, as if someone were always listening in on his conversations. "There's about three years to every journal, kid. If you wanna understand him, you read it all. I tried and failed several times to get a book published to honor him for the hero he was. But you! You could get him into the history books as an honorary member of the Justice League!"

"Justice Lea--" Robin started to ask one of his  _many_ questions about what the hell this man had just said, but thought better of it. "Exactly, sir. More people need to know his story, and not just the scary boogeyman the liberals always pushed!"

"Damn right, son! You can show 'em all the truth, you can give them a reason to finally give those commie bastards what Nixon didn't have the balls to give 'em!" And just like that, his intensity vanished, his soft dormant smile returned, and he walked away to join a bridge game out in the common area, leaving a very bewildered and confused Boy Wonder in his room. 

The rest of Robin's trip was mostly uneventful. He searched for the "Frontiersman" chief editor, Hector Godfrey, only to learn the infamous man had died back in the early 2000's. No other record of  the journal's publication could be found, so he decided to treat his last day like a much-needed break. He toured the city as Dick Grayson and took some (in his opinion) artsy photos of various landmarks and gothic-looking churches for Raven as well as bought a signed recording of Louis CK's performance at The Comedy Store, several pounds of frozen hamburger meat from one of Midtown's finest restaurants for Cyborg, and shelled out a hefty amount on a rather ornate amethyst and emerald necklace for Starfire. The jeweler argued that the two gems didn't go together, but he insisted; they were her colors, after all. Even though she would have been just as happy to receive a Statue of Liberty snow globe ("glimmer pods," as she called them, always fascinated her simply in the idea that humans could come up with such a trivial, yet oddly satisfying trinket), Robin still loved the feeling of buying a unique and precious gift for his unique and precious girlfriend, though he would never voice such a thought out loud. 

The next afternoon when he returned to Jump City and, subsequently, Titans Tower, the team had dinner on the roof as Cyborg eagerly grilled up the first batch of gourmet hamburgers. But throughout the evening's lighthearted fun as Beast Boy attempted to perform a Louis CK bit and Raven telekinetically threw the mustard bottle at him in response, Robin was unable to get one thing out of his thoughts: the journals, which he'd decided not to touch until he'd gotten home. Well... he was also unable to stop thinking about Starfire's reaction to her necklace, going from teary-eyed awe to the most carefully strong hug she'd ever given him, and finally, a quick but playful little kiss on his neck followed by a soft whisper of "Later..." in his ear before letting go. She was still giving him a little wink every now and then from across the table when no one was looking. _Cover-ups and psychos can wait,_ he reasoned. 

It was early the next morning when he awoke. 5:27 am, as the clock read. He turned his head slowly to see Starfire was still asleep behind him, her arm still around his torso where she'd pulled him into a spooning position while they slept. He carefully unwrapped himself and got out of bed, put on some boxers, and walked over to his bag. Pulling the journals out, he debated whether or not to read it in the living room. It was then that she stirred, making his decision easier. 

"Hmmm," she grumbled sleepily. "Robin... what are you doing awake? What is the planetary position?"

Robin smiled at her way of asking the time. "Hey there, Star. It's just a few shades past Kerf. I'm coming back, I just wanted to read something I found up there. You can go back to sleep."

"I did not know that the Newer York was so frightening for you..." she looked genuinely concerned. "You rarely perspire so much!"

Robin realized he was a sweaty mess, and suddenly had a vague memory of a nightmare waking him up. "Oh... yeah, no, I'm -- I'm sorry," he began, thinking on the spot. "This is just um... temperature adjustment. See, I got used to New York's cold temperatures so I just have to re-acclimate myself to the warmth here." He gave a reassuring smile to sell it more. 

With a soft smile back, she bought it, and moved over to the less sweaty side of the bed. He joined her and let her rest her head on his thigh, drifting back to sleep in no time. Once he was positive she wouldn't wake back up, Robin donned his mask and turned on night vision, so as not to disturb her. He then opened up the first journal and took a second to get used to the small, slightly messy handwriting before reading the first entry.   

 

 

> November 5, 1971. I finally know who I am. Walter Kovacs is weak, and can do nothing to answer the cries for help. Rorschach is not. With my new face, I can follow in the just and righteous footsteps of my late father. I don't need a promiscuous outfit of leather or a floating airship to send my message. I just need my fists, my perspective, and my face. A face for the scum of my city gaze into and see all of their wrongdoings staring back at them. This is for the orphans raised by drones. This is for my father, killed while fighting the Nazis. This is for Kitty Genovese.

So far, everything needed to profile the man was right here. Robin chuckled dryly. This was child's play! Grew up in an orphanage by neglectful caregivers and poor conditions, making him isolated and emotionally withdrawn. Considerable praise for his father, yet no mention of his mother; either his father truly was the best around and his mother died in childbirth, or his father was always out of the picture and his mother was even worse than the orphanage, leading to fantasies of a superdad who died a hero in order to cope with his home life. Extreme sense of injustice in "the system," possibly due to some less-than-legal  line of work his mother was involved in. And finally, the point that sent him over the edge into a full blown savior complex, a vague mention of a horrible tragedy involving a Ms. Genovese. _It's textbook!_ Robin thought to himself. _He's no different than half the other maniacs who do what I do. What **we** do. What could he possibly have to say that's so earth-shattering?_

Little did he know that his question would be answered much sooner than he thought. After thumbing through various entries on The Adventures of Rorschach and Nite Owl, he soon found that he was growing tired of the masked adventurer's self-important, delusional writing. He was about to call it a night and go back to being held by Starfire when he noticed a steep drop in penmanship while flipping pages in the second journal. Curious, he retraced the entries back to find an origin point. Expecting a gradual decline, he was surprised to see that between two separate entries the handwriting went from careful yet casual to abrupt, eccentric, and cramped. It was as if from this point forward, the entries were written by a completely different person. He went back to the first messy page and decided to read this last entry for now, as he'd caught a glimpse of something about the kidnapping of a girl named Blair Roche. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Site's glitching and mixing up my author's notes. But I should have it fixed momentarily. Thanks for reading and stay tuned!


	3. So a Vigilante and a War Criminal Walk Into a Bar...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, for some reason, my end notes for chapter one got moved to chapter 2. No idea how to fix it either so, sorry if it was confusing.  
> Anyways, I hope you like Quentin Tarantino, because it's violent flashback time, starring the happiest two saps to ever put on masks!

> June 3, 1975

Rain. He was keyed up, he was tired, he was furious, he was afraid. But more than anything else, he was soaking wet and in the rain. Since that was the only feeling that made sense to him at the moment, he decided to focus on it. Upon realizing he did not want to be out in the rain any longer than necessary, he walked a little faster, hoping to get to the bar before the water could seep through his hat to his face. Finally, he saw the familiar broken and battered sign for Happy Harry's bar, and went inside. 

Happy Harry himself was where he usually was: behind the counter mixing drinks, cleaning surfaces, and acting blind and deaf to the various criminal dealings and heist plannings going down in his humble tavern. He could not, however, ignore the man who had just walked in, especially seeing as he was drenched and a lot more pissed off than usual. "Oh... aw, Hell," he sputtered in helpless fear. "Come on man, not you, too! What is it, a -- a -- some kinda reunion or somethin'?" 

" **Hello, Harry,** " Rorschach replied dryly. " **Is he here yet.** "

"Yeah yeah... he's, um -- he's in a booth back there!"

" **Hrrm.** "

And so back to the booth he went, sitting across from the miserably cynical and nihilistic man ironically called The Comedian. The tall, star-spangled tank of a man was puffing on a cigar as always and looking through the newspaper. Upon closer inspection, Rorschach noted he was drawing mustaches on photographs in the Obituaries. He also had a large gauze bandage on his right cheek, probably some wound procured during some mission in Vietnam that he'd deny heavily if asked. The Comedian paused his sketching to take a long swig from his hip flask before finally acknowledging the soaked man before him. 

"Not that you're a bed of roses any other day of the week," he began with a smug grin, "But smoke ain't usually one of the fumes you give off. What happened, your campfire get rained on?"

Normally, Rorschach's responses to any kind of joke were nothing more than grunts or irritated growls. But tonight he was silent, staring at the menu before him even though it was clear his thoughts were far from pondering what lousy nacho platter to get. The Comedian realized something was up, and actually felt a bit annoyed. 

"Look, Spots, if you're feeling down and blue, you go talk to your bird boy. He's got nothing but time to spare whereas I just so happen to be a _very_  busy man! Y'know, when you called me on that little toy comm that Cap Metro gave us, I thought you were about to say you needed to lay low somewhere or you were wanting in on one of my little side--" The comedian stopped himself and cleared his throat before continuing. "--on some alleged side operation you might have thought I had going on. If I'd known you were just gonna whimper and sulk, I would've hung up and sent you some rope so you could hang up, too."

" **Hrrm** ," was all he got as a reply. However, just as the grizzled war veteran was about to put out his cigar on the other's mask and leave, he noticed something odd about it. The black amorphous blobs, usually only shifting slightly now and then, were moving erratically. No... not erratically. There was a definite pattern, the bottom staying relatively smooth while the top formed flickering little blade-like shapes, dancing almost like... like flames. 

"Spots, what the fuck did you do?" 

The man of few words finally looked at him and spoke. " **I found Blair Roche.** "

"Oh, Christ, the little missing girl? Just cut the vague and mysterious bullshit and answer the question, you maniac!"

" **Said I found her. Didn't finish.** "

The Comedian sighed and took another gulp of his flask. He wasn't going to get anything out of this man unless he stayed quiet and let him speak in his own broken, stupidly cryptic fashion. 

" **Ramshackle apartment. Bad part of town. Door barely gave any resistance when kicked in. Knew she was there, but couldn't find her even after searching everywhere. Opened the furnace on a whim, and then I found her.** "

Rorschach went on to describe in gruesome, yet mininmal detail how he'd found the burnt remains of her clothes and her bones on the jaws of two dogs outside. How he'd butchered the dogs and thrown them at their sadistic owner when he'd returned to the apartment. How he'd handcuffed the man to the radiator and given him a saw before setting the place on fire. As he finished, the Comedian merely nodded in grim understanding.

"So. You finally saw it."

Rorschach cocked his head to the side slightly. 

"You saw how ugly it can be. The old days of punching out punks in black eye masks and striped shirts are long gone. Hell, maybe they were never even real. Just a filter we chose to look at the world through to make ignoring the real shit easier." He lit up another cigar. "What you saw and did tonight? That's nothing. I can guarantee you I did worse on a weekly basis over in that swamphole. Guess I'm actually glad you came to me. Dreiberg woulda scolded you like a bad puppy. He's a nice kid, means well, but he's too young and stupid to get it."

" **Daniel isn't my my concern.** "

The Comedian shrugged. "Okay, then. What, are you afraid of God? I mean, judgin' by your picket sign, I'd say you're scared shitless."

For once, Rorschach was in complete helpless shock. How did he know about the sign? What did he know about Walter Kovacs? 

The Comedian rolled his eyes and continued. "I've been trained to spot undercover agents anywhere. And don't get me wrong, your little 'hiding in plain sight gag' is cute. Real cute. 'People never look at the homeless' and whatever, and I guess it's worked for ya. But to a guy like me? You stick out like untreated herpes. Took only a day of studying your posture and gait to figure out where I'd seen that same level of self-righteousness bef--"

He was interrupted by the steak knife pushed against his neck by the other man, now crouched on top of the table. " **No. One. Can. Know.** "

"Jesus, you fuckin' freak! You slow roast one kiddie rapist and now suddenly you're ready to kill the world!? I'm not telling anyone!"

Even over the blood pounding in his ears, Rorschach recognized the click of a hammer being pulled back, and he glanced down to see one of Comedian's Berettas aimed at his stomach. 

"Together on three?" The veteran smiled. Rorschach felt hatred for him. He was flashy. Arrogant. Smug. Insufferable. And right about everything so far. Growling under his breath, he dropped the knife and eased cautiously back into his seat while the other safetied and holstered his pistol. The bar patrons let out a collective relieved sigh and went back to their drinks. 

"As I was saying before your interruption, God isn't your problem now. Does He exist? Is He watching? Is this all going on our report card up there? I don't know, because it doesn't matter for me. What I do know is you have to realize that even if He was keeping things in line at some point, He's not callin' the shots anymore, just letting us do what we will to each other. We're left to our own devices, faith or none. And that means there's a lot of assholes out there who'll do horrible, nasty shit to others just because they can. Prison won't stop 'em. Not the big gangsters and bosses. And the true freaks like your roastee just get sent to therapy.

"It takes people like us to break the cycle and put them down for good. It's really not as complex an issue as you think. Innocent, guilty, just, unjust, righteous, wicked, religious, atheist, we're all circling the drain, Spots. Least we can do is some light pest control on the way down."

He finished making his point and downed the last of whatever was in his flask. He then stood up and made his way to the door. "Lighten up, pal. At least now, your voice doesn't sound like a dweeb trying too hard," he said. And then he was gone, leaving Rorschach to steep in his words as he began writing in his journal. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a pain this week's been. Sorry for the delay! Had a few issues to take care of, but I'm back now. I want to say that I hope this flashback structure of things isn't getting too confusing, because if it is, please let me know! I wrote this chapter because  
> 1) I didn't want to write about Blair Roche any more than necessary. It's super dark stuff, and plus I don't want to compete with Alan Moore's brilliant writing of it.  
> 2) I wanted to set up the event that led to Rorschach writing the entry that Robin is now struggling to get through. 
> 
> If this is a bit too far off-focus, though, feel free to tell me (in a civilized and contstructive fashion, mind you). From now on, it's just going to be between present-day Dick Grayson and past investigating Robin. Thanks for reading!


	4. Snap Goes the Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry to anyone keeping up with this. Had a lot of stuff happen this week that really just kind of put me in a slump for a few days. Anyways, sucking it up and shoving it aside, I'm back! Therefore, enjoy. And thank you all.

It had now been three months since Robin was first given the magazine by Trey, and a month since his trip to New York for Rorschach's journals. Though he would deny it as stubbornly as the broody millionaire who raised him, it was starting to affect his behavior on and off the battlefield. At first, his teammates didn't think much of it, writing it off as Robin simply obsessing with yet another odd case and isolating himself as he often did. It was not until a fight with the incompetent Dr. Light that they realized the gravity of his situation. 

Dr. Light was probably told he could be anything he wanted when he was little. He then probably replied "I'm gonna be a bad guy!" It was a running joke amongst the Titans that if he were to ever actually succeed in one of his harebrained schemes, he would be so unsure of what to do next that he'd just turn himself in. 

"I'm sorry, he's what?!" Cyborg laughed out from his seat in the T-Ship. 

"Siphoning power from a reactor at the power plant," was Robin's reply.

"Friggin' again?" Beast Boy joined in Cyborg's uproarious laughter. 

"No," Robin made no effort to hide his annoyance. "Last time, he was attacking the batteries and substations. This time, he's actually going after the reactor itself. Which, of course, is the dumbest thing you can do at a power plant. Messing with reactors like that, especially with the amount of energy he normally puts out, can do nothing but destabilize the thing and cause a full nuclear meltdown, taking half the city with it."

"Faaaaantastic," Raven's cutting sarcasm was hard to miss, even over comms. "Years spent protecting the city from terrorists, aliens, and interdimensional demons who wanted to destroy it, and now someone's going to actually pull it off just because he's that stupid."

"So many better things to do..." grumbled Robin. "And my whole day is put on hold because your stupid ass just can't stay in prison..." 

"Robin?" Starfire hailed him on a private channel. "I know now may not be a most appropriate time, but after we have dealt with Dr. Light, can we talk? You are very... how you say... hostile, lately and I am beginning to have concern for you."

Robin landed the ship as close as he could get to the plant, which had already been evacuated. As the Jump City Police Department was preparing to send in a SWAT team, the commissioner saw the Titans exit their ride and he called out "HOLD IT! They go in first!" There was always the usual mumbles and grumbles when superheroes got involved in police situations, especially when the heroes were young adults. Then again, no one else would be able to even get close to Dr. Light without being fried.

Inside the heavily irradiated reactor room, Robin could see Arthur Light tinkering madly with a large control board, which was hooked up to both the reactor itself and his suit. Robin, Beast Boy, Raven, and Cyborg each donned special radiation combat suits, while Starfire flew up to her position, already immune. As the doctor fumbled with security codes on the computer, each Titan flanked him; Cyborg and Robin waiting just out of sight from the platform Light stood on, Raven joining Raven in the rafters, and Beast Boy morphing into a stag beetle and crawling up the back of the villain's suit.

"Damned thing... Why isn't it working?" The former scientist had clearly not done any research on how reactors might have changed in the past decade or so; as he furiously pressed buttons and yanked out cords, Cyborg realized he had absolutely no idea what he was doing, which spelled trouble for anyone within a fifty-mile radius of Jump City.

 "Robin...." he whispered. "Dunno if you've noticed, but this dude's about to do to us what a microwave does to an egg!!"

"Just give him a sec!" Robin snapped back. Beast Boy was furiously trying to chew through the main cable on Arthur's back, cautiously shifting into a rat for better teeth. It worked, and the shredded end of the cable fell to the ground with a _> clunk<_, but the added weight did not go unnoticed. Light suddenly shook his back violently, slinging Beast Boy into a wall. 

"BEAST BOY!" Raven screamed and shot down, her four eyes glowing red with Rage as she snatched the villain up in her black telekinetic tendrils. "HE BETTER BE OK OR SO HELP ME-"

"Raven, no!" Cyborg ran out of hiding and tackled her before she could fall backward off the platform over the reactor's coolant. "DOESN'T ANYBODY GET HOW STUPID AN IDEA IT IS TO FIGHT HERE?" He yelled in frustration. 

"I didn't come her to FIGHT, foolish boy," Arthur began, wincing as he pulled himself off the floor. "I just came for the power I'm entitled to! In return for a portion of its nuclear energy, I have decided to spare your city from my dastardly schemes until further no--"

He was interrupted by a bo staff smashing against the back of his head. Robin had come out of hiding, as well, and proceeded to land blow after devastating blow on the downed criminal, who could do nothing but try to cover his face. 

" **We. Have. Real. Crime. To deal with.** " Robin growled between punches. " **Murder. Rape. Kidnapping. Trafficking. Drugs. All that happens. Under our noses.** " 

Starfire flew down at terrific speed in an effort to stop her boyfriend from causing any more damage. "Robin, what are you doing?!" She cried as she tried to grab him. 

Robin saw her and grabbed her first, using her momentum to swing her smack into the same wall as Beast Boy, who was back in his human form, but unconscious. Starfire sat up, both dazed from the hit and horribly shocked at who'd given it. 

Ronin turned his attention back to Light, who now lay in a crumpled heap, begging him to stop. Robin wasn't listening. " **All under our noses. Because of people like you.** " He grabbed the main power unit and ripped it off the suit's chest, leaving Arthur completely defenseless. Cyborg and Raven finally managed to pry him away, but over all the commotion, everyone could still hear his words ringing loud and clear: " **Idiots like you who think they're so special, they can make a big show of their crimes!** **You could throw a rock and bust a stoplight, and we'd still have to come down and slap your wrist because you're a villain! If it weren't for assholes like you demanding all of our time and resources, we'd be able to solve real problems!** "

OOO

"What. The actual. HELL was that all about?!" Cyborg's robotic arms were crossed, a difficult feat for him with the thickness of his armor, but he made do; if ever there was a situation that warranted crossed arms, this was it. Robin now sat in a medbay bed before him, blood tests and neuroscans all hard at work to make sure there was nothing sinister possessing his friend. "You beat the man within an inch of his life!"

Robin didn't even look up at him, simply sitting at the edge of the bed, shirtless and in boxers, but defiantly keeping his mask on. "I stopped him," was the only reply he gave. 

"Yeah, his heart!"

"Is he dead?"

"Why, you wanna finish the job?"

"Is. he. Dead?"

"...No, he's not. I've already sent the necessary equipment to the prison doctors to fix the bones you broke, too. Y'know, you fractured his skull in three places just in the face!" 

Robin's head snapped up. "Wait, you're fixing him?"

"I think it's kinda the the thing to do! Considering we usually try to be, you know, BETTER than that?"

"So the villain gets free plastic surgery. Awesome."

Cyborg sighed in frustration and walked over to the computer. "Blood's clean, brain's normal, hormones a bit wacky but hey, when aren't they, right?" He shrugged and walked back to Robin. "But anyways, this means that whatever happened out there? That was all you. Now you've been mopin' around here a lot lately, and I see you've gone back to wearin' that mask 24/7 again. Mind tellin' your team slash family just what in the hell's goin' on with you?"

...

Like a family at the hospital, Beast Boy and Starfire were anxiously waiting outside the medbay to hear Cyborg's diagnosis. So when he came out, they barraged him with questions. 

"Dude! Is he going full Red X again?"

"Is his brain under attack by the zenythe parasites?"

"What was he babbling about back there?"

"He was... he was how you say, 'blackened out' when he threw me, right...?"

Cyborg shrugged sadly and shook his head. "Everything's pointing to him being in complete control of himself. Or at least, as far as outside influences go. Biologically speakin', he's actually healthier than usual! I know you might not wanna hear this, Star, but... I've got him restrained until tomorrow morning. I'm hopin' he'll be willin' to talk then. Right now he's just glarin' at the ground like it killed his puppy or somethin', I dunno."

The three turned away, hearts heavy, and split off for bed for the night. As Cyborg headed down to his lab, Starfire drifted up to Robin's room, where she flopped onto his bed and cuddled up against Silkie, desperate to forget the events of today. Meanwhile, Beast Boy knocked on Raven's door. "Hey... R-Rae?" He spoke through the door. "Cy says that Robin's not sick or anything, just... I dunno, he's pretty messed up right now. And... well, I just want to talk. Can I come in?" 

No answer. He knocked again, louder. "Raven, are you even in there? Raven!" Before he could knock again, she phased through the door, covered his mouth roughly, and whispered "SHH. Just wait for me, ok?" She opened the door and pulled him inside, tossing him onto the bed before hurrying back out and shutting the door behind her. "What the..." muttered Beast Boy as he st up in confusion. 

Robin didn't struggle against his restraints. There was no point; they'd just restrain him again, and he wasn't about to hurt his friends to avoid that happening. Besides, he had no burning need, no painful itch telling him he HAD TO DO THIS ONE THING RIGHT NOW like he had felt in the past when possessed. He was not under someone's control, he was just bitter. As he sat stewing in his thoughts, a shadow slipped through a nearby power outlet and stood up to form Raven. Before he could tell her to leave him alone, she walked up to him, bent down, and whispered in his ear something that made him choke on the words. "Either show me where the journals are, or I'll get inside your head and poke around until I find them myself."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BOOM she knows. And she's pissed. What's he gonna do? Who's she gonna tell? Find out next time on this... oh screw it I always sucked at dramatic hype. But yeah, things are gonna start picking up fast, so strap in, boys and girls and everything in between! And once agin, I am so so sorry that it's taken this long to update this story. Like I said, this week was an emotional shitshow for me. I'm gonna do my best to keep these new chapters a-comin' more regularly in the future, though, I promise! Stay weird, y'all!


	5. The One Where Raven Tells Robin to Pull His Head Out of His Ass

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robin's an angsty son of a bitch, I tell you what.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm terribly sorry this took so long. I got no excuse except... I dunno, writing in character takes a good bit of patience! And I'm not even fully confident that I've mastered that yet  
> :/  
> That being said, enjoy!

Dick Grayson jolted awake and looked around frantically. Realizing he was still in the Tower living room, he sighed and looked at his watch. 5:20 am. He cursed under his breath and got up from the couch. Walking to the other side of the coffee table, he picked up the fallen journal and decided it was time to go back to bed and attempt sleep again. The nightmares were still giving him hell, but so was sitting awake in the middle of the night while his thoughts spiraled out of control. He was approaching the door to the hallway when it suddenly opened to reveal Starfire. She was wearing a pair of Raven's blue pajamas that she'd "borrowed" after a sleepover Raven had reluctantly agreed to. She also looked simultaneously furious and worried.

"Robin... Dick..." she began with such a sad softness that Dick felt chills run down his back. "It has been months... and you refuse to make communication with me. I know that I have yet to learn everything about Earth relationships but, well, I know it cannot involve one subject withdrawing completely into themselves and leaving the other to assume the worst."

Dick nodded his head and walked toward her. "You're right," he replied. "I thought I was just keeping you safe but that was probably the shittiest thing I could do."

Starfire opened her mouth slightly in surprise, apparently expecting him to argue, and crossed her arms. "If you think you can just gloss over three months without any talking, or smiling, or even... even loving... and not to forget the lashing out, then you, as the phrase goes, have something else coming!"

"I know. Baby, I know. But I'm not trying to gloss over anything. Instead, I'm gonna show you why I haven't been myself at all lately." He stopped in front of her and placed a hand on her shoulder. When she didn't shake him off, he held out the book. "This right here has been fucking with my head for six months now. There's four more like it, but this is the most important one."

She took it from his hand and began flipping through the pages as they walked back to the couch together...

* * *

Robin's head snapped toward Raven in shock. "Wha-- how...? I don't have.. I mean what journals?" 

The blue empath rolled her eyes and flicked his forehead. "We're connected mentally, smart one. You think I haven't sensed the nightmares you have every night?"

"Wait... I thought you said we weren't supposed to use it for spying on each other?"

"Robin, trying to ignore the waves of emotion you give off lately is like trying to ignore a man yelling loudly about his wife's affair on the subway. There's no way I _can't_ hear it."

"Then how do you know about the journals?" 

"Just an image." She shrugged and with a glow in her eyes, unfastened all of his restraints. "A small bag with five books in it. They'd have to be journals by the looks of them. And it just randomly hits me at times. You've given me more than a few headaches lately."

Robin sat up and blushed. "I... I'm sorry," he said. "You know what's in them?"

"Gotta be something about the Manhattan Attack. I keep dreaming about standing in Times Square right before the Jumbotron explodes and everything goes blue. So I'm going to ask one more time." She forcefully grabbed his arm. "Where. Are. They?"

Robin sighed heavily in defeat before answering, "My bottom dresser drawer."

...

Fifteen minutes later, he was sitting on the medbay cot with Raven beside him, going through the various philosophical musings of the world's saddest psychopath. He showed her the entry on Blair Roche. He showed her the entry on the rapist pastor. He even showed her the entries on Rorschach's mother, about whom he seemed to write the angriest.

"Apparently, he had friends," Robin noted before reading an entry dated November of '77 from the fourth book. 

> Unsure of what to make of Daniel lately. Saw him for first time in weeks last night. Didn't recognize me without my face. Reportedly hasn't worn his since the act was passed two months ago. Shameful. City needs us most and everyone hangs up their uniforms, like union workers who think a little extra pay is worth bringing the whole world to halt with a strike. Like the cops who decided to play victim after their incompetence was brought to light. Always held out hope for Daniel, though. Told self that he had to see he was necessary. That we all still had a duty. Found him yesterday to look for any trace of the Night Owl on him. If it's there, he's hidden it deep, which may as well be worse than losing it completely. Ashamed, Daniel? Or perhaps afraid? Could be under surveillance. Never was good at keeping quiet in his civilian guise. Drew lots of attention. No telling who's threatening or extorting him into staying dormant. Ozymandias? Perfectly lines up with something Veidt would do. Must remember to investigate further.

Raven shook her head slowly. "The man's completely delusional," she stated matter-of-factly. "Don't get me wrong, this is all very, very dark stuff, but that doesn't explain your outburst earlier." Robin sighed and pulled out the final volume. 

"This," he replied quietly. "This is why. The last few months of entries draws an incomplete picture of a conspiracy that makes just a little too much sense."

Raven took it from him and began skimming through the latter half of the book, each page turn slower than the last. When she'd finished, she sighed heavily and set the book down, pressing her fingers to her temples. "Well, great. So all we can assume is that Veidt killed them and buried them in the snow."

Robin nodded. "Seems that way, doesn't it? I've given up trying to find Walter Kovacs because he barely existed even when he was active. But this Daniel Dreiberg character, something's weird."

"Weird how?" She looked at him incredulously. How could it possibly get much weirder than this?

He gave a dry, humorless chuckle and explained. "The day after that last entry is dated, Mr. Dreiberg withdraws every penny to his name and drops off the face of the Earth!" He plopped onto his back and groaned. "I keep getting _soooo close_ to some kind of lead only to hit a dead end."

Raven gritted her teeth and thought carefully about how to form her next question "Ok. Hear me out... Have you tried asking him for help?"

Robin stared at her blankly. "Rae, don't play the pronoun game, just tell me what you're talking about, please."

She rolled her eyes and let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm talking about Batman. Ask Batman for help, find out what happened, put this mess of yours to rest, and maybe stop threatening the lives of common crooks."

The Boy Wonder coughed and sat up, fidgeting with his belt. "Well... no. I don't need to, see, I've already narrowed do--"

"Robinnnn..." Raven growled his name and he fell quiet. "It would be best for everyone if you dropped the 'lone wolf' act that's never worked for you in the past, and just ask for some help. Not just Batman, either; I mean all of us, the whole team."

"I can't do that to them!" Robin snapped as he stood up. "I won't! You've seen how deep it goes, you know how bad it gets, and I haven't even found the whole story yet! I won't hurt them like this. Ok? I'm not going to put that kind of burden on Beast Boy, or Cyborg, and especially not--"

"Starfire's already in pain, genius!" Her voice was sharper and louder than he had ever heard it before. Ordinarily quiet and reserved, her rare outbursts of anger were immediately subdued if she could help it. This time, however, she wanted hold nothing back; this arrogant one-man-show was going to know _exactly_ how she felt. As Robin's face flushed of all color and he sat back down, she continued. "You spent a lot of time telling her about the importance of trust and equal responsibilities in Earth relationships. I know you're not empathic, but just humor me and _try_ to see it from her perspective, would you? All she knows is you used to be extremely open and intimate with her and you always wanted to give her some kind of affection every day. Now, you spend all night at the computer, barely give her any kind of conversation other than simple small talk, and you know what? You haven't even noticed she's gone back to sleeping in her room!"

Robin felt cold. As if someone had thrown him out of airlock into the void of space, and every vein felt like it would simultaneously freeze and burst. He wanted to ask why, he wanted to beg Raven to bring Starfire to the medbay, he wanted to yell every obscenity he knew. "She... when?" was all he could get out. 

"Four days ago," was the empath's reply. "She thinks you hate her. That you got tired of her weird alien tics. This is what happens when you try to 'protect' us from the truth."

He took a second to collect himself, then he cleared his throat. "Ok. I'll message him."

...

Just a little more than twenty-four hours passed before Robin got his response. He was still in the medbay, and Cyborg had just finished examining him again, with no new results. As the bionic man walked out, shaking his head and locking the door behind him, Robin felt his encrypted smartphone buzz. He looked at the screen to see the message was from Bruce. Before opening it, he texted Raven, who phased up from the floor seemingly immediately after the message was sent. 

"Well?" Was all she offered as greeting.

robin looked at his phone and read aloud. "'You won't find Dreiberg because Daniel Dreiberg no longer exists. Moved into the Short Hills suburbs of New Jersey with one Laurie Juspeczyk as Sam and Sandra Hollis. Have two sons, aged 11 and 8.'"

Raven waited for more, but that was it. "Seriously? Nothing else?"

"Well," Robin rolled his eyes. "There was this really sweet part about how he and Alfred miss me and how they think of me often and how he's working on a super special birthday present for me, but yeah, that's it."

Raven couldn't stop the slight smile that snuck across her face. "Ok. All father-figure-issues aside, now we know where this guy is, right?" 

"I know, yes." He gave her a cautious look of _you don't really plan on coming, do you?_

She read him perfectly, and responded with a sharp glare of _you're damn right, I'm coming!_

"Raven... you don't ha--"

"Shut it, Robin," she held her hand up and silenced him. "No more of this loner crap, remember? I'm part of this now, and soon you're going to make everyone else a part of it as well. But we can discuss that later, we need to focus on leaving tomorrow for New Jersey. How's 5:30 in the morning sound?"

Robin sighed, accepted defeat, and nodded. "Sounds perfect."

She gave him a rare, unrestrained smile. "Good. Then, I guess I'll see you in the morning to sneak out!" Then she was gone. Teleported away in a cloud of blackness. 

Robin sat back down on his bed and thought over what they were about to do. Finally, he was going to get some solid answers. It was a good thing, right? Then why couldn't he shake the feeling that he was going to regret this?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. This chapter has given me nothing but stress since I started it. I know, there's not much that happens, and I apologize, but the next one will be much more interesting and dark. After all, haven't you always wanted to hear the fate of Rorschach from Daniel's point of view? For more updates on how I'm doing with this monster of a story, or to ask me questions about stuff, follow me on tumblr @ao3-hypewriter


	6. Two Birds With One Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys. It’s Zach. Before the chapter starts I just want to apologize to anyone who might’ve been enjoying this series only to have it come to a screeching halt because I decided to retreat into myself for seven months or so. Truth be told, I wasn’t even planning on coming back to this, but this morning, something compelled me to open up my account and look at it. And hot damn, at time of writing, this sucker’s got 77 hits?! I can’t thank any of you enough for the likes and views, but I can say I’m sorry for going dormant for so long. This past year has simply been rough, and crossover fanfiction just kinda took a back burner to everything else I had going on. But then I started reading through it again today and you know what? I really like what I’ve written. I’m proud of this in a way no one outside my friend who gave me the invite to this site can understand. Now, I kinda have to figure out where I ultimately want this thing to go, but I’ll get it. Thanks again to everyone who decided to give my little wish fulfillment a read, and I hope you enjoy everything that comes next!

Sam Hollis was simply enjoying the afternoon. Blake and Mason were visiting from New York, the grandkids were playing in the yard, Sandra was having a drink in the living room with their daughters-in-law... It was a picture of pure bliss. And he didn't deserve any of it. He'd spent the past twenty years with this knowledge, that he was able to live this blessed life because of the biggest lie he'd ever told. And he'd always known that someday, somehow, it would catch up to him. So when a weird techno-punk looking car pulled up to the curb, Sam didn't panic. When a young man in a red and green costume stepped out, accompanied by a grey-skinned, purple-haired girl wearing jeans and a Pink Floyd shirt, he didn't flinch. Without so much as a sigh, he opened the door and greeted the odd couple in the driveway. 

"Mr. Hollis?" Robin was first to speak. Sam held up his hand and nodded toward the T-Car. “Before we do anything else,” he began, “you wanna move that into the garage so we don’t attract anymore attention than you already have?” He spoke in the friendly, yet somewhat irritated tone of a kind neighbor trying to accommodate unwelcome guests. Robin chuckled nervously and quickly did as the man suggested. Soon, they were all inside sitting in Sam’s office, surrounded by framed newspaper articles and mementos about the legendary Hollis Mason. 

Raven surprisingly broke the ice, “Isn’t it a little dangerous to keep so much of this stuff in your house?”

”Not like I have secret police turning over my house every week,” Sam replied dryly. “Besides, that’s all stuff about the original Nite Owl. Should anyone ever actually break into my office then ask me, I’m just a big fan of the guy.” He smiled, setting the two at ease at least for the time being. He then cleared his throat and took a sip from his coffee. “Look, guys, I don’t know  _exactly_ why you’re here, but if it’s anything about my time as one of you, I’m afraid I can’t help you. I haven’t touched the old cape and cowl in decades, and I don’t plan on dusting them off anytime soon.”

It was Robin’s turn to shift uncomfortably as he pulled out an all-too-familiar journal. “Actually... it’s not really about your time as a masked hero... more about your last night as one.” Sam’s smile dropped immediately, along with his coffee mug at the sight of the familiar hand-drawn insignia of his former friend. 

“Oh, fuck...” he slipped. Robin and Raven both exchanged a nervous glance. The man sitting before them didn’t even seem to be registering the scalding hot coffee that had spilled into his lap; instead, he leaned back in his chair, removed his glasses, and sighed heavily before coming back up and facing them again. “So. You found a journal that may or may not belong to a well-known conspiracy theorist who may or may not have worked with me in the past. Is that it?” His friendly disposition seemed to drain away like the coffee now staining the floor. “I don’t know what you kids want with me, or why you came all this way in a shining  _beacon on wheels_ to anyone who might be hunting me and my family just to show off a dead man’s diary, but I’m gonna have to insist that you leave right no—“

”Mr. Dreiberg!” Raven cut him off sharply and stood up. Suddenly, the room felt like an interrogation cell. “Of all the people he writes about in his journals, the only one he writes about more than you is his mother. So we know you were a friend of his. We also know that you were with him on November 1, 1985! I, for one, am sick of these journals ripping my team apart, so the sooner you give him the answers he wants, the sooner we can pull our family back together!”

Sam sat in stunned silence at the first use of his real name in over thirty years, while Robin sat speechless at the young empath’s sudden seizure of control. When they had both recovered and Raven had sat back down, Sam put his glasses back on, shook his head, and spoke again. “Fine. I’ll tell you, only because I’m sick of this shit clawing at the back of my head. Wanna know about Rorschach? I’ll tell you about Rorschach.”

* * *

It was 6:50 am, and the morning sun had already begun peeking over the ocean’s horizon, bathing Titans Tower in soft rays of a new day’s hopes and possibilities. It was this light that poured into the living room, highlighting the young couple sitting on the couch as they worked hard to carry each other through a darkness unlike anything they’d ever faced before. 

“It was all... lies?” Starfire said as she thumbed through the pages of Rorschach’s final volume. “Such a devastating tragedy, yet it brought your planet’s governing bodies together... and it was all because of a lie?”

Dick nodded. “The Manhattan attack’s were never Dr. Manhattan. Dr. Manhattan was never a super villain. The guy could do literally anything and he managed to get used and dropped as a patsy by one guy.”

”But... then what happened to this Rorschach? He does not seem like a good person, but he wrote so much of the punishment for crime and how he would not compromise... surely he and his owl friend let the world see the truth?”

”That’s the thing, Star... he tried. Nite Owl and everyone else decided to keep quiet about the whole thing but Rorschach wasn’t having it. Called them all cowards and traitors before marching off into the snow toward the ship.”

Starfire felt what was coming before Dick even said it. “He... did not make it. Did he?”

”Nite Owl... Dan managed to catch up to him, but Manhattan got to him first. Said he couldn’t let Rorschach go. When it became clear that he wasn’t going to comply, Manhattan killed him. Vaporized him right there in the snow.”

Starfire fell silent. Robin watched her, afraid to think about how such a revelation would affect her. To his surprise, she shrugged calmly. “As awful as it is, I think I understand,” she said. 

“Wait... what?”

”Of course! The deed was already done, and killing Adrian would not solve anything.”

”How can you be so ok with this??”

Starfire turned suddenly and glared at him, her eyes glowing threateningly. “I am NOT okay with what he did!” She shouted. “He is a monster that deserves nothing less than a life sentence in the Kylar Prison of my home! But what else can we do, Richard? To expose him would be to undo every bit of progress Earth has made since then! Countries turning on each other, reverting back to the days of the Coldest War, is that what you want?!”

He swallowed the lump in his throat and shook his head. “Of course not, Star...”

”Then decide for me! You’ve spent almost a year brooding over a book! What do you want out of it?!”

Dick looked out the window as he thought about what to say. The sun was almost fully visible now, and he realized how much his girlfriend seemed to shine in its light. Even angry and hurt, there was no denying how simply... beautiful she was. Suddenly, only one thing made sense to him, and he decided to focus on that. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her lips to his. To his relief, she relaxed and returned the kiss. When he finally let go, he looked her in the eyes and answered, “I just want to get better, Star. For you. More than anything else, I want to get better and move on so I can be there for you again. I am the single luckiest guy on the planet and somehow, I forgot that fact for seven months. I can’t tell you enough how sorry I am for putting you through all this... can you forgive me?”

In response, he suddenly felt himself lifted into the air and squeezed to the point of near-death. She loosened her grip just enough so he could breathe again before kissing him again, flying them both back to their bedroom.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freakin’ did it. I’m not done yet, guys, Garfield and Raven still have some stuff to work through. Plus, Adrian Veidt’s still alive. Just sayin’. Stay tuned!

**Author's Note:**

> Ok so first I wanted to say, yes, I'm writing "The New Frontiersman" as a tabloid-esque magazine. It just makes more sense to me and for the plot than a newspaper.  
> Secondly.... yeah, I'm gonna be using the disaster from the movie instead of the book. I'm sorry if this is abominable to some of you guys, but I always found the squid to be stupid looking. In such a relatively grounded and human story, suddenly there's a giant squid? There's a tone-breaker for you. And besides, that only affected New York. Now, the movie's version affected several major cities worldwide, giving EVERYONE incentive to band together. Plus, it made a cool little connection to Doc Manhattan's work with the villain.  
> Anyways, that's Chapter 1: a long af exposition dump and exposure of my controversial opinions about a movie :D  
> I promise it'll get better, I won't be a plot tease all the way through!


End file.
